I Will See You
by Ana
Summary: Back on Coruscant, Qui-Gon begins to regain his health. He has a chance to care for Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan cared for him on Trellis.


Title: I Will See You Author: Anastasia  Categories: angst, h/c, romance Series: This is the third piece in the 'Coming to Their Senses' series. The first piece is 'Not On Deaf Ears,' the second is 'Bitter Taste of Fear.' There *will* be a fourth/final piece in the series to follow 'I Will See You'…which will take things finally into the realm of slash. Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Q/O Status: Complete Archive: M_A 

Spoilers: Not that I'm aware of…except for the two stories I wrote before this one, if you haven't read them… : ) ::points reader to the M_A site to find 'Not On Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter Taste of Fear':: 

Summary: Back on Coruscant, Qui-Gon regains consciousness and begins to regain his health. He has a chance to take care of his padawan as Obi-Wan took care of him on Trellis. Directly follows 'Not on Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter Taste of Fear' in the *Coming to Their Senses* series. 

Series Summary: In 'Not On Deaf Ears,' Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were stranded on a hostile planet. Qui-Gon was injured and Obi-Wan all but destroyed his health attempting to keep Qui-Gon alive. Obi-Wan collapsed just as Mace and Yoda arrived to rescue them. In 'Bitter Taste of Fear,' Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were rescued from the planet by Mace and Yoda. A guilt-ridden Mace faced his feelings with some insight from Yoda. The four of them returned to Coruscant with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan in critical condition. 

Feedback: Please… When I don't hear from anyone, I get a complex... : ) Flames, should you feel the need to send them, will be cheerfully forwarded to the ferret, who will hunt down all flamers and bite their ankles. Thank you! 

Disclaimers: We all know who these characters belong to (Thank you, Mr. Lucas!), so there's no question as to who's getting all the credit, money, attention, etc. for these wonderful Jedi. (Hint: It's not me...) Disappointing as that is, I'd just like to borrow them to tell this story... 

Inspiration: I am constantly inspired and motivated by my story editor, Caly Rose. Thank you, Caly, for making me want to write and for keeping me at it even when I sometimes seem to write only a sentence an hour. : ) 

Thank yous: This series continues to be done under the supervision of my editor-in-chief, Calysta Rose. Without her, this story would be one big mess of words…and would likely not have been completed until July. : ) Thank you, Caly!!!!!! 

Thanks also: To everyone who wrote to say they enjoyed the first two stories in this series. The responses have been just wonderful! And thanks to Elektra, Amber Biles, Kender, and ADM for beta testing this story. Everyone had excellent ideas and suggestions—which were used in ways that improve the story enormously. Thank you! 

Note: This story is a companion story to 'Not on Deaf Ears' and 'Bitter Taste of Fear' and will make little sense if you haven't read them first. They can be found on the M/A site. There is one more story planned for this series. 

Another note: * * or italics represent thoughts; ~ ~ represent Qui-Gon's memories; / / represent telepathy. 

I Will See You 

by Anastasia 

Qui-Gon returned to consciousness slowly, first aware of the pain in his head and chest. Taking a deep breath was impossible; indeed, breathing shallowly was difficult. There was a tickle, a bothersome irritation in his lungs. He could feel...Could almost remember... 

The massive coughing attack brought him to full consciousness and he attempted instinctively to sit up to quell the fit. The result was agonizing. His mind went black, white stars streaking through his brain, blocking any outside thoughts. He gasped for breath with lungs that had forgotten how to work. 

Immediately Qui-Gon was pushed back against the pillows. Strong hands held his head immobile as a breathing-assist mask was placed over his face by a second set of hands. Something sharp was thrust into his chest, cold at first and then hot. He arched his back, as much from the coughing as to escape the object that felt like it was piercing his lungs. 

"Shhhhh…" a voice hushed him. "Be still. It will pass." 

Qui-Gon attempted to speak, but found he could not. His chest continued to contract painfully; his throat felt raw. 

"It's too much!" the voice said. Qui-Gon could feel the speaker running gentle, calming hands up and down his arms. It was soothing, he noted almost peripherally. "A Force suggestion would…" 

"After three days he's finally conscious," a second voice interrupted the first. "And I, for one, would like him to stay that way." 

"But the pain is overwhelming him! Can't you see? He's in agony…" 

"*Master* Windu," a third voice said. "Would you kindly allow us to do our jobs? Qui-Gon has weathered many of these attacks, as I'm sure you recall, and he will weather this one. Just give the injection time to start working." 

"But he was not *conscious* during the other attacks!" the first voice barked. "Surely this falls under cruel and unusual…" 

The argument went back and forth, with the first voice arguing against the other two. After a time, Qui-Gon felt the pain begin to ease a bit. Eyes still closed, he gave a small sigh to test the tightness in his chest. It was still there, like a weight, but it was almost bearable. And the coughing had stopped. He allowed himself several more breaths from the oxygen-rich breathing mask before attempting to open his eyes. 

Above him, Mace Windu came blurrily into focus. 

"Qui-Gon, my friend," he said softly, leaning over the medical bed. "Welcome back." 

Confusion in his eyes, Qui-Gon lifted a weak arm, attempting to remove the oxygen mask. 

"You should leave it on, for now," Mace told him. "Give your lungs a break. Sometimes they actually cooperate if the mask stays in place." 

Mace's words were met with a "Hmmph," from the two healers Qui-Gon could now see standing at the foot of the bed. "He is determined to have that mask off, isn't he?" one of them said. "Conscious…unconscious…" 

Mace waved his hand, indicating that they should go. After one more inspection of the various tubes and monitors, they left the two men alone, one of them muttering, "Jedi masters, ha! Worst patients I ever saw." 

Qui-Gon furrowed his brow at the remark, then refocused his attention on his friend, eyes imploring. Mace looked him over for a full minute, relief flowing from him in waves. 

Standing up, Mace pulled a low chair over to the bed and sat down, at an easier angle for Qui-Gon to look at him. "I'm so glad you've come back to us," Mace said, voice rough. He laid a warm hand on top of Qui-Gon's in gentle support. 

Qui-Gon made an impatient noise which came out more like a hum. It got Mace's attention. 

"You're not going to be able to talk for a while," Mace told Qui-Gon. "So let me do the talking. I promise to stop if you need me to. You can blink if you understand or agree and move your head to indicate otherwise. Fair enough?" 

There was a blink. 

"Do you know where you are?" 

Qui-Gon's eyes moved about the room, and he blinked. Then a panic-stricken look crossed his face which said that although he *thought* he should know where he was, he didn't. Frantically, he shook his head. 

"It's okay," Mace assured him. "You're on Coruscant, in the medical facility. You have been seriously ill. It stands to reason there might be things you don't recall." 

Mace stopped, as if considering his words. He studied Qui-Gon silently, for so long that Qui-Gon wondered if he would go on. 

"You were on a diplomatic mission to Trellis," Mace said finally. "Do you remember that?" 

There was a pause and then Qui-Gon blinked. 

"You were not welcomed there and the townspeople had a kind of energy weapon. The weapons were filled with a chemical and when they exploded, the dust got into your lungs and made you very sick. You were forced to flee the town to escape. Do you remember that?" 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, thinking. A pained looked crossed his face, but he shook his head. 

"We knew you were in need of assistance," Mace said, sounding as if he were forcing the words out. "But there was an emergency on Coruscant and it was nearly twenty-five rotations before we could get to you…" He took a breath. "You were in pretty bad shape by the time we arrived." 

Qui-Gon lifted his hand to slowly touch the mask again, then carefully placed his hand on his chest, gasping as he hit upon the source he'd been seeking. The skin under his hand felt bruised, and it shouldn't have. Injured lungs and chest had nothing to do with the outside of a body. 

Mace sensed the unvoiced questions. "Your lungs were damaged almost beyond repair. For that type of injury, bacta, of course, was out of the question, and conventional methods weren't working for the healers, either. One of them devised a technique that appears to be working…but the drug has to be pumped directly into the chest/lung area." He touched Qui-Gon's hand, which was still over the bruise-blackened area. "The injections are doing a number on your chest. But it's the only method the healers have found success with. And the bruising will clear up when the treatments stop." 

Qui-Gon blinked and slid his hand back down to his side, closing his eyes again. He had so many questions, and no way to ask them. Had he done any negotiating? Were negotiations being continued by anyone else? How had he contacted the Council from the planet if he'd been so ill? How did Mace know so much about what had happened there? How had he survived nearly a month on his own, injured and, as it sounded, dying? Where had his padawan been all that… 

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open as bits and pieces of remembered thoughts and feelings began to flood his mind. How could he have forgotten? The sand. The sun. A wet cloth being placed on his forehead. The yellow powder of the weapons. Feeling weak. Unable to breath. Body wracked with convulsions. 

Frantically, Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed Mace's hand, lifting it to his own face. He pressed the dark hand against his temple, urging the other man to communicate telepathically with him. He could feel Mace instinctively shy away as his mind was bombarded by Qui-Gon's thoughts, but he pressed on, insisting. Mace accepted. 

/Obi-Wan!!/ Qui-Gon thought into Mace's mind. /Where is Obi-Wan?/ 

Mace braced himself. /Calm down, Qui-Gon,/ he urged. /Obi-Wan is…/ 

/WHERE?/ Qui-Gon's mind demanded. /Where IS he? Where is Obi-Wan?/ 

/He is here, Qui-Gon,/ Mace tried to say calmly. /He's right here in the…/ 

Something like a growl left Qui-Gon's throat. /You're lying! I haven't seen him! Where IS he?/ 

/Qui-Gon!/ Mace shouted into Qui-Gon's mind. /Stop!/ That got Qui-Gon's attention. /Now,/ Mace continued. /Obi-Wan *was* on the planet with you. He kept you alive long enough for us to arrive. He is probably the sole reason you *are* alive./ 

Qui-Gon's thoughts slowed a bit. /Is he still on the planet? Continuing negotiations with the Trellisians? Is that why he is not here?/ 'Is that why he is not here with me?' his mind wanted to ask. 

/Qui-Gon…Obi-Wan has sustained some injuries of his own./ 

/The weapons?/ Qui-Gon demanded to know. 

/No,/ Mace told him. /Not the weapons. Overexposure to the elements. The heat, the cold, the sun. The sand constantly blowing around that dustbowl they call a planet./ 

/Can I see him?/ Qui-Gon was desperate. /Can I talk to him?/ 

Mace brushed a length of hair away from Qui-Gon's face. 

/Obi-Wan sustained serious skin and tissue damage from constant exposure to the sun./ Mace began. /He was dehydrated; he had severe sun stroke…He was close to death when we picked him up, Qui-Gon. Closer than you./ 

/I have to see him, Mace!/ The need surged, swelling in Qui-Gon like rushing water building up behind a dam. /I have to see him NOW!/ 

/No, Qui-Gon. You can't…/ Mace told the other man. /Please lie still…/ 

The urge to go to his padawan was greater than the pain and nausea Qui-Gon felt as he broke away from Mace's grasp and abruptly sat up. Blood pounding in his ears, Qui-Gon swung leaden legs over the side of the bed, heedless of the tubes he was pulling loose, oblivious to the alarms going off to warn the healers that something was amiss. 

/Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon's mind cried out. /OBI-WAN!!/ 

/Qui-Gon!/ Mace's voice was still in his mind, his hand back on his temple, trying to communicate. 

"NO!" Qui-Gon shouted as loudly as his lungs would allow. Mindlessly, he struck out, knocking the hand away from his face and knocking its owner out of the way. He tore the breathing mask from his face and sent it bouncing off the far wall. Feet on the floor, the first time he'd stood or walked in almost a month, he lurched toward the doorway. 

/Obi-Wan!/ 

Three steps away from the bed, Qui-Gon's legs gave out, sending him crashing to the floor. His breath left him in a wheeze and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Gasping, he clutched his battered chest and attempted to draw in air. The room began to spin. 

There were hands on him, not moving him to the bed, but laying him out on the hard floor. He coughed uncontrollably, head banging against the floor in sickly counter-rhythm. 

"Get that needle in him NOW!" one of the healers shouted. 

"Where is his oxygen mask?" the other demanded. 

"I'm putting him out this time," Mace said through gritted teeth. "And don't tell me I'm not. He can't handle this. Not right now. It's too much." 

Qui-Gon felt the tendril of the Force invade his mind, even as he fought keep it away. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want the Force. He only wanted… /OBI-WAN!!!/ 

"He's not breathing!" 

"He's in full arrest!" 

"Get another healer in here!" 

The voices were loud, the panic in the room palpable. But for Qui-Gon it all began to fade into the background. Sight…sound…all began to disappear. At last, there was only the agony in his head and chest…and blackness. And then there was only blackness. 

* * * 

When Qui-Gon awoke, he found that he could not move his arms or his legs. Oxygen flowed again through his nose and mouth and he had to admit that his chest did not hurt as much. 

Instinctively, he looked around, searching for Mace. Footsteps approaching from across the room told him he was still there. 

"I'm here, my friend," Mace assured him. He reached out a hesitant hand and placed it tentatively on Qui-Gon's face. Qui-Gon blinked his consent. /The restraints?/ came the bitter question. /Why have I been restrained?/ There was no mistaking the hurt in the mind voice. /Is a critically injured man so much of a threat to you?/ 

/We felt it was in your best interest, Qui-Gon,/ Mace told him. /You were injuring yourself and…/ 

/It is not *me* you should be worrying about!/ Qui-Gon's shouted. /*My* health is not important!/ 

The signature of Mace's mind suddenly froze. /It is to your padawan./ 

/Mace?/ Qui-Gon tested the chilly waters of the sudden change. Mace's countenance remained stony. 

/Your life was important enough for Obi-Wan to risk his life saving it. Right now your life means everything to him,/ Mace said coldly. /Don't treat that life as if it doesn't matter. Don't treat his sacrifice as if it doesn't matter./ 

The words hit Qui-Gon like a slap across the face. He would never…he could never… 

/Obi-Wan!/ 

Qui-Gon strained against the bonds, head thrashing from side to side. As it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to break free, Qui-Gon ceased his movements, panting. The pressure was building in his chest again. Turning his thoughts inward, he concentrated on slowing his heart rate, controlling his breathing. He had no wish to repeat what had happened earlier. 

Mace's cool composure suddenly broke. /Yes, Qui-Gon!/ he urged as saw the other man stave off the imminent attack. /Fight it. You *can* control it. It no longer has to control you./ 

Qui-Gon fought the urge to cough; his chest heaved in his efforts to stop the inevitable deluge. He visualized a door and pushed against it with all his might, physically closing it on the attack. The pressure receded a little. Qui-Gon shut the virtual door tightly and concentrated on relaxing his chest muscles and releasing the pain. The pressure receded further, until the attack was diverted. 

Mace let out the breath he was holding. /The Force is returning to you, my friend,/ he said with a pleased smile. /It is speeding your healing. I can already feel it within you. Soon you will not have need of all this…/ His hand made a sweeping motion to include the medical equipment around and attached to Qui-Gon. 

/You still haven't told me…/ Qui-Gon began. 

/What?/ Mace asked. 

/…about Obi-Wan…/ Qui-Gon finished. /Where is he? And when can I speak to him? There are so many things I need to tell him./ 

/I'm afraid it will not be possible to speak with him for a while, Qui-Gon,/ Mace said. /There have been some complications…/ 

/Complications?/ Qui-Gon's hands twisted in the restraints, feet twitched with their inability to move. /What sort of complications?/ he demanded. 

/If I tell you,/ Mace said, /I want your word that you will be still and listen. No sith-spawned stunts like the last time./ 

Qui-Gon's jaw tightened. /I'm tied down like a Niveran whore,/ he thought darkly to Mace. /Where would I go?/ 

Mace blanched at the thought, his revulsion bleeding through their mental connection. Deftly, he undid the fastenings that bound Qui-Gon to the bed. 

/Are you certain that's allowed?/ Qui-Gon asked, only partially interested in covering the sarcasm in his voice. 

/Can I trust you?/ Mace challenged him. 

Qui-Gon blinked. 

/Then it's allowed,/ Mace said simply. /Now…/ 

Mace recapped all that he knew of Qui-Gon's mission to Trellis, based on Obi-Wan's sparse transmissions. 

/The last couple days were the hardest on Obi-Wan, I expect,/ Mace told Qui-Gon. /Your health was poor, his health was worsening. And I suspect that once he knew help was on the way, he relaxed his shields a bit and was overcome by the elements much more quickly. 

/And scans taken immediately after your rescue indicate you stopped breathing for nearly a minute prior to our arrival. Obi-Wan revived you. When we questioned him here in the medical lab, he wouldn't tell us anything, save for the fact that it had happened before—often, if the look in his eyes was any indication. Something about the haunted familiarity of what we were describing, compared with the tests we've done on you, says he'd been dealing with it on a regular basis./ 

/Obi-Wan…/ Qui-Gon's mind voice was anguished. Oh, what Obi-Wan had gone through during his incapacitation! 

/When we finally got you two back here,/ Mace continued. /Obi-Wan was too severely dehydrated and too mentally distraught to handle the bacta. The healers sedated him the first day and pumped him full of liquids and nutrients. And in the last two days we've made five unsuccessful attempts to submerge him in the bacta tank./ 

/Did you try sedating him while he was *in* the bacta tank?/ Qui-Gon asked. The method was, after all, common. 

/Yes,/ Mace said. /Enough to put a rock garden to sleep. And he fought it. The healers think it has something to do with the way Obi-Wan forced himself to remain conscious on the planet. His body became accustomed to remaining awake, against its natural need for sleep, and it doesn't understand that the situation has changed./ 

/A Force suggestion?/ Qui-Gon asked. 

/His mind would not yield to it,/ Mace told him, shaking his head. /The counselor thinks Obi-Wan's body will have to be re-taught to relax itself and follow its natural ebbs and flows. It heard only internal commands from Obi-Wan for so long that it can't break out of that pattern. Meanwhile…Obi-Wan has injuries only several days in a bacta tank can heal. He's awake all the time…won't let anyone near him. We've already had two healers injured due to his raging./ Mace rubbed a sore shoulder. /Must have learned everything he knows from his master./ 

Qui-Gon had the grace to blush at the reference before demanding, /Where is he now?/ 

Mace hesitated. /He's in a private room across from the bacta tanks. The healers wanted him close in the event that they were able to convince him to submit to the treatments./ 

/I could convince him,/ Qui-Gon insisted. /I'm sure I could calm him enough attain his cooperation. He'll listen to me./ 

/Qui-Gon…/ 

/Is there a problem with me communicating with my own padawan?/ Qui-Gon demanded. 

/Other than the fact that you were near death just yesterday?/ Mace asked. 

/But I'm not near death *today*,/ Qui-Gon said. He was beginning to get angry again. 

/Qui-Gon…your padawan believes you *are* dead./ 

"WHAT?" The word was out of Qui-Gon's mouth before he consciously thought about it. The pain in his chest that accompanied it made him gasp. 

"We've tried to tell him—believe me, we've tried," Mace said aloud. "But twenty-five days of sleep deprivation and malnourishment do things to a person's psyche that words alone can't fix." 

The harsh reality of how far gone Obi-Wan really was suddenly hit Qui-Gon. 

/You have to let me try,/ he told Mace. /Surely there is some way I can convince him that I am *not* dead. Mace, please. I need to see him, and you want his compliance. If you let me do this, maybe we can both get what we want./ 

/Qui-Gon…you always know just how to get around the small details, don't you? You always did./ Mace sighed, removing his hand from Qui-Gon's temple and standing up. 

"I'll go talk with the healers and see how they feel about this. Give me a couple minutes and I'll get you an answer." 

* * * 

Qui-Gon was beginning to doze off when Mace re-entered the room, hover-chair in front of him, healers behind him. He raised his eyebrows at the sight. 

"You can see Obi-Wan on two conditions," Mace told him. "First, the healers want to work with you for a bit." At Qui-Gon's panicked look at being kept from Obi-Wan, Mace added, "They want half an hour to help you meditate. With the Force coming back to you, you should be able to assist them in healing your lungs enough to give you at least soft vocal tones. Obi-Wan may not let even you get close to him, and being able to speak to him will give you an enormous advantage. 

"Second," Mace continued. "If your voice tires or *you* tire, I want you to stop. You're still weak and your injuries are only beginning to heal. Jeopardizing your health all over again isn't going to help you *or* Obi-Wan. Will you agree to our terms?" 

Without hesitation, Qui-Gon blinked. He wanted to be with Obi-Wan, no matter the cost. 

* * * 

Even from the corridor, the maelstrom of emotions that hit Qui-Gon as he approached his padawan's room was almost blinding. From pain and anguish, fear and anger, to confusion, need, and total exhaustion, Obi-Wan's emotions were a mass of lows. 

As he maneuvered the anti-grav chair awkwardly through the doorway and into Obi-Wan's room, Qui-Gon looked back over his shoulder at Mace. The other man was apparently going to keep his word about letting him handle things on his own, although it appeared he was going to stay close as Qui-Gon made the initial contact. Qui-Gon didn't know whether to feel relieved or nervous, having another person around to witness what was about to take place. 

Halfway to the bed, Qui-Gon opened the training bond he had with Obi-Wan. All but forgotten, it had lain dormant since their time on the planet, for obvious reasons. Now the link flared to life, and if Qui-Gon had not already been seated, he would have fallen to his knees under the sheer rawness of the emotion reflecting back at him. 

In a blur of movement, Obi-Wan turned to face him, almost unrecognizable in his rage. He snarled like a cornered animal, a bed pillow clutched tightly to his chest. 

"Get away from us!" he screamed. 

The angry tone made Qui-Gon flinch; the words sent fear spiraling through his body. 

/Obi-Wan?/ Qui-Gon tried through their link. /Padawan? Can you hear me?/ 

Obi-Wan's eyes opened wide. "Get away! I'll kill you with my bare hands if you come near us!" Pulling the pillow closer, Obi-Wan rested his chin upon the top of it and seemed eerily at peace as he whispered, "I'm here, master. I won't let anyone harm you." 

Qui-Gon's stomach lurched. Was the pillow a representation of him? If Obi-Wan was hallucinating that badly, it was going to be difficult to draw him out. 

/Obi-Wan…do you know where you are?/ When there was no response, Qui-Gon went on. /You're safe. You're on Coruscant. There's no need to be afraid any longer./ 

Qui-Gon studied his apprentice. It was shocking. The month of suffering had left Obi-Wan looking deathly ill. His face was drawn, reddened and scarred from the burns he had sustained on the planet. The bones in his hands and face were starkly evident, even beneath the severe burns. He had lost untold pounds, which he couldn't have afforded when he was healthy. Now, it made him appear too-thin and wasted, a ragged remnant of the well-muscled, perfectly-toned knight-in-training he had been. 

With a cry of outrage, Obi-Wan suddenly flew at Qui-Gon, hands reaching for his throat. The younger man was faster than Qui-Gon would have expected. Attempting to subdue Obi-Wan with a nudge of the Force, Qui-Gon found himself still too weak to do so. Unprepared, Qui-Gon fumbled with the chair's controls, unable to move out of the way. 

Feet on the floor in an instant, Obi-Wan stood up, swaying. Disoriented, he lashed out at Qui-Gon, his swings wild and inaccurate. 

/Obi-Wan, stop!/ Qui-Gon said desperately. Someone was going to get injured, he thought as he attempted to defend himself, and it was probably going to be… 

Qui-Gon cried out as one of Obi-Wan's blows connected with his shoulder, tipping the chair precariously and spinning it around. The second strike, to the side of his head, knocked him to the floor and sent the chair scattering. 

"Qui-Gon!" 

Mace was at his side, lifting him into a sitting position. *No!* he sent to Mace. *Don't interfere. He's confused enough as it is.* 

*This has gone too far!* Mace told him. *I'm going to…* 

Obi-Wan, who had frozen at the sound of Mace's voice, suddenly collapsed to the floor at Qui-Gon's feet, unconscious. 

*Mace, please,* Qui-Gon pleaded. *This is my chance to get through to him.* 

With a quick once-over of Qui-Gon's temple, to inspect the purpling bruise there, Mace retreated to the corridor once again. 

Coming to, Obi-Wan moaned softly. 

"Obi-Wan." It was the first time Qui-Gon had used his newly-recovered voice, and it sounded weak and gravelly in his ears. It got Obi-Wan's attention. 

Obi-Wan picked up his head, eyes darting from side to side as if searching for the speaker. 

"Obi-Wan." 

"Who's there?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously. The fight seemed to be gone from him, but he was still on high alert. His hands reached out, searching, and his tension heightened as he failed to find what he sought. 

/Padawan, can you hear me? Here in your mind?/ 

Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly connected with his. 

/Yes, Padawan,/ Qui-Gon said. /Yes, inside your head. It's our link. You can still hear me./ Relief washed through him. He had been afraid their bond had been somehow damaged with the trauma they'd both suffered. 

Obi-Wan's look grew blank again, as if he were thinking…or remembering. 

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon quietly tried again. The first time it had gotten Obi-Wan's attention. 

Ducking his head almost as if he were afraid, Obi-Wan said quietly, "Who are you?" 

Qui-Gon took a breath. If Obi-Wan thought him dead, how would he react to Qui-Gon's admission? On the other hand, if the earlier image of Obi-Wan clinging to the pillow was any indication, he still believed, somewhere in his mind, that Qui-Gon lived. 

"This is Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly. It hurt to speak, but it was much more effective than using their bond. The bond only seemed to spook Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan flinched at the words, shaking his head fiercely. "No…" he mumbled. "No…no…no…" 

"Obi-Wan, I *am* here," Qui-Gon said, trying to put more force behind the words. With his limited range, it was almost impossible. "I'm here and I'm fine, Obi-Wan. There is no need for further worry. You can rest now. I'm safe and I'm here with you. You saved my life." 

Obi-Wan's eyes were wild as he looked at Qui-Gon. His tortured breathing was audible in the small room. "M…Ma…" Obi-Wan seemed incapable of forming the word. Hands twisted unconsciously in the fabric of his sleep shirt. 

"Yes, Padawan," Qui-Gon encouraged with relief. "You're remembering. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe on Coruscant. Safe with me." Qui-Gon swallowed, already feeling the strain in his lungs and chest. He longed to take Obi-Wan in his arms, wrap him in a tight embrace. Assure him that nothing was wrong. But Obi-Wan had to first accept the truth of his words. 

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. His expression filled with the uncertainty of a confused young man who didn't know who or what he could trust anymore, including the ideas of his own mind. Sun-scarred knuckles turned white as Obi-Wan clutched at his tunic. Qui-Gon heard the fabric rip. 

"Pad…" Obi-Wan said, almost to himself. "Padaw…no. Mast…no!" Obi-Wan's braid whipped back and forth as he shook his head, unable—or unwilling—to process what Qui-Gon was saying. 

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon countered. "Believe it. You *can* believe it. We have survived, master and padawan." 

Obi-Wan went several shades paler. "No," he said in a small voice. "My m…m…mast…er is. Dead." His eyes went as expressionless as his voice as he said the words. "I should be dead." 

Grief overwhelmed Qui-Gon. The sight of his broken padawan was far too much to bear. 

"Obi-Wan, no." Too weak to stand, Qui-Gon covered the space separating them on his hands and knees, Jedi ego be damned. And then Qui-Gon was enfolding Obi-Wan in his arms, trying to convince himself that his padawan would not snap in two, even though he felt as fragile as dry kindling. Obi-Wan was light—perhaps twenty kilos lighter than before their mission—and the idea of how he'd come to this made Qui-Gon want to wretch. 

For several long minutes, Obi-Wan twitched in Qui-Gon's grasp, babbling incoherently about the transport that was coming to get them and the Trellisian weapons. Qui-Gon found himself whispering soothingly to his padawan to calm him, as he had done long ago when his apprentice had been fevered or dreaming. 

"Shhhhh, Obi-Wan," he murmured, gently combing his fingers through his padawan's feathery hair. "Everything is fine now. There is no need for worry." 

"He is dead," Obi-Wan said in a slurred voice. "I killed him." 

Qui-Gon couldn't stop the gasp of horror that escaped his lips. "No, Obi-Wan, you killed no one!" 

"He is dead," Obi-Wan said tearfully. "Dead because I didn't have the strength left to keep him alive. I was weak. He was right about not wanting to take me as his padawan. I don't deserve to be anyone's apprentice." 

"Obi-Wan, stop this!" Qui-Gon said with growing dismay. He could hardly bear his padawan's ravings. 

"I should be dead in his place," Obi-Wan mumbled, thrashing against Qui-Gon's hold. "He never hurt anyone…never disappointed anyone…in his entire life. He didn't deserve the death I sentenced him to. He deserved someone better than me to watch his back and protect him when he couldn't do it himself." 

Obi-Wan's voice had faded to almost inaudible tones and Qui-Gon had to lean close to hear him. "If I could just…just…" The tears continued to flow. 

"What, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon heard himself saying. "If you could just what?" 

"Just..end it all…I'm no one's padawan now. They will blame me for his death. And they will be right…but I can't live with that." 

Qui-Gon's heart thudded in his chest as he listened to his padawan's ramblings. Never had Obi-Wan talked this way—thought this way! 

"Better to return to the Force than face the Council's disappointment and judgment. I deserve it, but I'm too tired to survive it. Easier to do it this way." And from one instant to the next, Obi-Wan's life-force dropped to almost nothing. He was willing himself to die. 

The panic that had been building in Qui-Gon's chest exploded, making it hard to draw in air. The scream that had been building in his throat was torn from him in one word. "Noooooo!!" 

When Mace ran to his side this time, Qui-Gon didn't protest. Together he and Mace laid hands on Obi-Wan, grasping at the small bit of life and Force that still remained with the younger man and tethering him to the world of the living. Obi-Wan was strong and stubborn, but he was no match for two equally determined old Jedi masters. Slowly, they pulled Obi-Wan back to them. 

* * * 

"Obi-Wan." The name was a dry whisper on Qui-Gon's lips. "Obi-Wan, wake up." The young man in Qui-Gon's arms showed no sign of coming around. 

/Obi-Wan…it's time to wake up,/ Qui-Gon said into his apprentice's mind. Suddenly, Obi-Wan stiffened, head and neck snapping forward and back, eyes wide open. 

"Easy, Obi-Wan!" Caught off-guard, Qui-Gon nearly lost his grip on his padawan. He tightened his hold and the apprentice whimpered. "You are well and safe," Qui-Gon said, swallowing convulsively against the fear that had risen in his chest. "Be at ease." 

Obi-Wan's muscles tensed again, and he twisted in Qui-Gon's arms, but he made no attempt to get away. "M…master?" 

Qui-Gon's heart leapt. /Yes, Obi-Wan. I'm here./ 

Obi-Wan looked at him then, greenish eyes sadly bright against the burns and scars marring the young face. A shaky hand slowly reached up to touch Qui-Gon's face. Gently it traced a line down his cheek to his beard. "You are alive?" Obi-Wan asked in awe. "You did not die on the planet?" 

Qui-Gon's vision swam. /I am alive, my Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon assured him, carefully placing his own hand atop his padawan's. /You risked your life to save me. And for that I will be always grateful./ Qui-Gon's thumb absently traced circles over the reddened, blistered fingers and knuckles. 

"No, Master," Obi-Wan said weakly. He turned his head away from Qui-Gon, effectively breaking contact with him. "I have…failed you, Master," Obi-Wan said, closing his eyes. 

Qui-Gon was almost speechless. /Failed? Obi-Wan, why do you say that?/ 

"You were so close…" Obi-Wan shuddered. "So close to death. I should never have allowed that to happen. It is a padawan's duty to…" 

It was Qui-Gon's turn to shiver. "Obi-Wan, no," he said aloud, a bit harsher than he'd intended. He allowed his voice to soften. "Never think that," he said softly. "You *saved* me. And you put yourself at great risk to do so. If anything, it is I who have failed you." 

In an instant, Obi-Wan's eyes were on Qui-Gon, his mouth agape. "Master? You haven't… You would *never*…" 

/Didn't I, Obi-Wan?/ Qui-Gon challenged. /I am your master. It is my duty to protect you. And unconscious and dying on the planet I didn't exactly live up to the Council's expectations, did I?/ 

Obi-Wan's eyes were wide. "The Council…? But it wasn't your fault, Master. The circumstances were beyond your control. You can't be blamed for something you had no control over!" 

/But you can./ Qui-Gon's question came out like a statement. It hung heavily in the air as Obi-Wan slowly thought it over. 

"I…" Obi-Wan began. 

Qui-Gon smiled gently. /It seems, Padawan, that we have reached an impasse. You are feeling guilty for what you see as your neglect of me. And I am feeling guilty over leaving you alone to deal with a situation far beyond what anyone your age and training should be forced to endure. Perhaps it would be best for both of us to mutually forgive one another and ourselves and to meditate on the acceptance of things which are beyond our control. Only in that way will we be able to move forward, beyond what has happened./ 

Inwardly, Qui-Gon sighed. A lesson amidst all of this? Even as he and Obi-Wan discussed life and death and the blame therein, he was ever the Jedi master, instructing and guiding the young apprentice. He sighed again, this time aloud. 

"Master?" Obi-Wan looked at him almost shyly now. 

/I was just thinking of how proud you make me, Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon told him. /And how lucky I am to have a padawan as selfless and loving as you./ He watched as Obi-Wan blushed furiously. 

"Master…" 

/Time to meditate, my padawan,/ Qui-Gon said, taking the pressure off Obi-Wan. /To heal our souls. And then time for you in the bacta tank, to heal your body./ 

Feeling himself pulled more tightly into his master's arms, Obi-Wan allowed his head to loll back against Qui-Gon's chest. "I love you, Master," he said, eyes closing as he allowed himself to drift into meditation. * * * 

Surfacing from their meditation, both men felt more at peace than they had for many weeks. 

/I'm ready now, Master,/ Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon, although he could not suppress a shudder. Part of their meditation had included reflections on Obi-Wan's fight with the healers over the bacta, and Qui-Gon knew his padawan had accepted his need for assistance. 

/I am proud of you, my Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon told him, having not missed the tremor running through his apprentice. Although he had accepted it, there was a part of Obi-Wan that was still not convinced of Qui-Gon's well-being; the irrational belief that he needed to protect Qui-Gon to the exclusion of all else clung to his psyche, all but tattooed on his mind. /I *am* well, Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon assured him, touching his cheek lightly. /You have seen it. Now it is time for you to be made well./ 

Ever the faithful padawan, Obi-Wan swallowed against his perceived demons and allowed Qui-Gon to summon Master Windu and the healers. 

* * * 

"No!! NOO!!!" 

Outside the bacta tank, Qui-Gon watched with growing horror as Obi-Wan fought the healers' most recent attempt to submerge him in the red gel. Just as before, Obi-Wan began to gasp, hyperventilating. 

"Remove him!" Qui-Gon ordered the healers surrounding the tank. "Get him out of there, now!" The sight of his padawan's suffering had become more than he could endure. 

"Qui-Gon." Mace was at his side, hand on the back of the anti-grav chair that continued to support Qui-Gon. "Please..." 

Qui-Gon swiveled the chair to face the other Jedi. "I will not allow Obi-Wan to be hurt further!" Qui-Gon grated. 

"They're not hurting him, Qui-Gon," Mace insisted. "They're *trying* to help him." 

In the tank, Obi-Wan's body jerked like a puppet on a string. "Noooo! I won't! M...master!" His eyes rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness. 

"By causing him severe mental anxiety?" Qui-Gon was outraged. "It may not be physical, but it is still suffering. I want him out of there--now!" 

"Qui-Gon, listen to me," Mace said. "This is our chance. Obi-Wan is unconscious. He'll slip easily into the healing mode now. Let the healers flood the tank with something to relax Obi-Wan, to ensure..." 

"No!" Qui-Gon throat did not react well to the shout. He was forced to swallow and lower his voice. "No drugs. I will not have Obi-Wan forced into this. He has had enough decision-making taken out of his hands recently. I will not be party to more of it." 

"But this is our fourth attempt today!" Mace shot back. "How long do you intend to go on like this?" 

"For as long as it takes," Qui-Gon said simply. "As long as it takes Obi-Wan to understand that I am here for him, that he is safe, and that he *can* submit to the treatment of his own accord. No drugs. No Force." 

"Just a calm acceptance..." Mace said, in obvious disbelief. "Trust you to be unconventional even in something as conventional as bacta healing." He sighed. 

"This is important, Mace," Qui-Gon said quietly, willing his friend to understand. 

"To whom?" Mace wondered. 

"To both of us," Qui-Gon answered. "The time we spent on the planet changed things, Mace. I can feel it, now more than ever. Even the nature of our master/padawan bond is different." 

Mace blinked. "How so?" he asked curiously. 

Qui-Gon thought for a moment, still trying to puzzle things through himself. "Obi-Wan is more independent that ever before," he said finally. "But at the same time, he is more dependent on me than he has been in years. It is the nature of what happened on the mission, I think. Obi-Wan is locked into a mind-set which is telling him that although he has reached a new plateau of mental maturity, he must continue to rely on me, protect me." Qui-Gon swallowed against the growing dryness in his throat. 

"As you have said, his psyche has endured things which words alone cannot fix. Obi-Wan must begin to experience his new-found independence and it must begin here. If I, or anyone else, make this decision for him, we may very well permanently brand Obi-Wan with mental uncertainties he will carry with him for the rest of his life." 

Mace sighed, obviously trapped. He would not argue against another master in something like this, Qui-Gon knew. Especially where a training bond was concerned. He had won, at least in this. 

In the tank, Obi-Wan came to consciousness and began to flail helplessly. His mouth opened in a wide 'o' as if he were preparing to scream again. Mace glanced toward the padawan and looked quickly away, eyes meeting Qui-Gon's in understanding. He motioned to the healers. 

"Remove Obi-Wan from the tank," he ordered them. "His master will attend him." 

* * * 

Obi-Wan gasped for air, like a fish taken from the water. He had been removed from the tank so many times today, Qui-Gon thought, it was no wonder his apprentice felt that way. 

Slippery and wet from the healing gel, Obi-Wan was difficult to hold on to. Abandoned by the healers, who no doubt felt their time had been wasted, Qui-Gon was on his own as he attempted to wrap Obi-Wan snugly inside the folds of his robe—not an easy task when one had no great mobility of one's own. At last, he had Obi-Wan secured and in his lap, held tightly to his chest as he'd done when his padawan was but a small child. It had always given Obi-Wan great comfort. 

As Qui-Gon gently stroked the side of Obi-Wan's face, the apprentice calmed. His ragged breathing slowed and evened out. 

/Give in,/ Qui-Gon whispered into Obi-Wan's mind. /Give in to the calm, Obi-Wan. You can relax now. You are safe. I am here./ How many times had he said these things? Qui-Gon felt as if it were programmed into him. /I want you to heal, Obi-Wan,/ he said, as his hand came to rest on the young man's cheekbone. He traced it tenderly with a callused thumb. /I want you to be well./ 

Bowing his head, Qui-Gon rested his chin atop the wet spikes of Obi-Wan's hair. Suddenly, he was reminded of something he had not even realized was in his memory. The planet. His body convulsing as if it would break. Obi-Wan holding him. The Mantra of Peace. Oddly strengthened by the picture that flashed into his mind, Qui-Gon began the mind chant. 

/Force, bring peace to this young man, a faithful servant of the light. Force, bring calm to my apprentice in his time of need. Force, bring healing strength to my padawan in his time of suffering. Force, bring understanding to Obi-Wan and make him know that he is a cherished, beloved part of my life, and in the lives of all the others here at the Temple…/ 

* * * 

"How is he?" Mace stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan's room looking down at Qui-Gon with concern. From his place on the floor, Qui-Gon spared a glance upward before returning his attention to his padawan. 

"He has calmed," Qui-Gon said quietly. "And fallen asleep. I don't know what he will do when he awakens." 

Mace cleared his throat nervously. "Qui-Gon…" 

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and he gave Mace a hard stare. "Mace, whatever it is, just say it." 

Mace had the grace to blush. "The healers have sent me to tell you this is the last attempt they will allow you to make. If you cannot find a way to get Obi-Wan into bacta tank, then they will—even if they have to sedate him." 

"Even if it causes him harm?" 

"Qui-Gon…pulling Obi-Wan in and out of the bacta could be causing him harm. You know there have been cases where bacta has become less effective or even failed to work on patients that were removed during treatment." 

"I cannot believe they would force my hand like this," Qui-Gon growled. 

"They only have Obi-Wan's best interests in mind, Qui-Gon," Mace said. 

"They…" 

"Just as you do," Mace continued. "But now we're down to what will be less medically damaging for Obi-Wan. Surely you can understand that." 

Qui-Gon ran his hand through Obi-Wan's drying hair, torn between the truth of Mace's words and his almost overwhelming need to take care of Obi-Wan's troubles himself. 

"Very well," Qui-Gon said sadly. "Allow me some time alone with him and then I will turn him over to you." 

As Mace nodded and turned to walk away, Obi-Wan's eyes opened. Blinking as if to focus, his eyes met Qui-Gon's. Seemingly too exhausted for words, Qui-Gon felt his padawan probing his thoughts. He bared them all to Obi-Wan, letting him sense everything he felt. For a moment, Qui-Gon's sadness was reflected in Obi-Wan's eyes. 

/I am ready, my master,/ Obi-Wan thought to Qui-Gon. /If you will be here with me, I am ready./ 

Pride for his padawan flooded Qui-Gon's every cell. /Always, Obi-Wan,/ he assured the young man cradled in his lap. /I will always be here with you./ 

Out in the corridor, Qui-Gon heard Mace signal the healers. As they came to remove Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon allowed Mace to help him back into the grav-chair and escort him to the tank. 

As his apprentice was lowered into the bacta once again, Qui-Gon turned his concentration to Obi-Wan, gently talking him through the fear that threatened his hard-fought calm. As the young man finally relaxed and allowed the bacta to do its work, Qui-Gon knew the only thought in Obi-Wan's mind was the sound of his master's soft voice. 

* * * 

"How long has it been?" Qui-Gon asked Mace, accepting the sandwich offered to him by the other man. He was hungrier than he was willing to admit. 

"Obi-Wan has been submerged forty-five hours," Mace answered. He had pulled up a chair next to Qui-Gon and sat taking a bite from his own sandwich and looking into the bacta tank. "Will you please take a break, Qui-Gon? I could stay right here and notify you immediately if anything should change." 

"Should he still be unconscious?" Qui-Gon continued as if Mace had not spoken. 

"Qui-Gon, you know that sometimes a person healing in the bacta is conscious the entire time and sometimes not conscious until the time of their removal. Everyone reacts differently to the healing gel. I'm no healer, but I'd guess that with Obi-Wan's injuries he will be unconscious for a longer period." 

"He needs this, Qui-Gon," Mace told him, seeing the look of worry that crossed Qui-Gon's face. "Allow his body the time it needs to adequately repair that which a cruel and uncaring planet nearly destroyed. Once his physical injuries are mended, then you can begin to heal the mental ones." 

"Have the healers said how much longer they believe it will be?" 

"Another day, at least," Mace said, brushing a crumb of bread from his cloak. "Maybe two. They will know more as the time draws nearer. Shall I have them come out and speak with you?" 

Qui-Gon shook his head. "That will not be necessary. I do not wish them to think I don't trust them to know their own jobs. I am simply curious and anxious, as you might imagine." 

Mace nodded in sympathy. "As any good master would be," he said. "Are you sure you will not reconsider and allow me to take you to your quarters for a short rest?" It was why he had come to Qui-Gon in the first place. 

Qui-Gon shook his head again. "I'm fine," he told the other Jedi. "I can doze or meditate here if need be, but this is where I want to be when he awakens. I never again want him to experience the empty, helpless feelings he knew on the planet." Qui-Gon's tone was pained. 

"You will not always be available to him, Qui-Gon," Mace said cautiously. "Obi-Wan must know that. It is a noble thought, but whether you are off-planet, injured, or…" His voice dropped off, but neither man needed to hear the word 'dead' to know what Mace meant. 

"I am aware of that," Qui-Gon said fiercely. "But I *am* here now and I will *be* here for him *now*. I won't…" A sudden fit of coughing took Qui-Gon by surprise. His eyes widened, then closed as he clutched his chest, trying not to succumb to the pain and panic threatening to overcome him. Only Mace's hand on his shoulder, a steady and calming presence, helped him to fight the attack. 

Panting and drained, Qui-Gon dragged several breaths into battered lungs. When he did not begin to cough again, he allowed himself to relax a bit. Gathering his thoughts, he prepared to continue his tirade. 

"Mace…" The word was barely audible. Gratefully, Qui-Gon accepted the tea Mace offered, but drinking it did him no good. His throat burned and his chest felt crushed—as did his spirit. 

The look in Mace's eyes was one of understanding, as he silently offered to reopen their mind-to-mind contact. "It *is* all right," Mace said gently, placing a hand at Qui-Gon's temple. /You still require time to heal. There is nothing wrong with that./ 

Qui-Gon sighed. /As I was saying,/ he said into Mace's mind, /I cannot predict when or for how long I will be able to attend Obi-Wan or watch over him, but I do know that right now, at this moment in time, I am able to do so. And while I am still able, I *will* be here for him. Call it what you like—over-protection, duty, paranoia, whatever—I will not leave the bacta tank until Obi-Wan does. And you may pass that along to any of the other Council members who may feel the need to come down here and persuade me otherwise./ 

Mace smiled. /Okay, you win,/ he said. /But if you feel dizzy or short of breath or your head or chest begin to hurt again, I want you to notify the healers immediately. Your own healing is not complete by any stretch of the imagination. It has merely been postponed./ 

/I will,/ Qui-Gon assured him. /And thank you./ He took another sandwich from the plate before Mace turned and left, taking the last one with him. 

* * * 

Staring through the red gelatinous substance, Qui-Gon could hardly keep his eyes open. He *was* tired…exhausted, if the truth be known. Only the picture before him, of Obi-Wan fitted with a breathing mask and all the various tubes and monitors frightened him enough to keep him from drifting off. Obi-Wan would have willingly died for him! The idea of a padawan—his or any other—having to face such a decision hit Qui-Gon like a punch to the stomach. 

/You were always like that, my Obi-Wan,/ he thought to the young man in the bacta suspension. /Always willing to give of yourself no matter what the personal cost. I think it is what first drew me to you, what continues to draw me to you. And it is what will make you such a fine knight…/ 

Qui-Gon's thoughts drifted to a time, almost two decades earlier, when he had seen Obi-Wan in a situation that would have put padawans years older than him to shame. 

~ Qui-Gon had been on the way to noon meal, his padawan, Xanatos, at his side, when he'd stopped to watch some of the Temple tots playing in the gardens. As was typical, Xanatos had quickly lost interest and Qui-Gon had given him permission to go on ahead to the food hall. 

A group of the Temple's youngest trainees sat in a circle around an overturned box, a collection of black and gray kittens tumbling in the grass at their feet. Some of the children were enchanted with watching the tiny animals' antics, while others of them had the kittens in their grasp, petting, cooing, kissing them. Obi-Wan was one of the latter. 

Holding a black kitten carefully, the three-year-old lifted the small thing until it was face to face with him. He smiled a smile brighter than sunshine itself, melting even the stoic Jedi's heart. Qui-Gon could not hear the words, but Obi-Wan talked to it quietly, patiently, perhaps telling it how beautiful it was, or saying how happy he was to have it to play with this day. 

So entirely engrossed in his interactions with the animal was Obi-Wan, that when another of the boys let out a cry of dismay, he nearly dropped the kitten. Holding the black ball of fur more tightly, Obi-Wan wandered over see why the other youngster was so upset. Crying as if his heart would break, the other little boy pointed across the garden to a dense grouping of trees. 

As the other boys and girls stood and picked up the kitten each had been playing with, it was obvious to see the boy no longer had his companion. Apparently, it had run off into the trees, where the children knew they were not allowed to go. One of the girls ran to tell the knight who was supervising the youngsters in their play and he shook his head. The little boy who'd lost the kitten cried even harder. 

At the knight's suggestion, all of the children began to look around. Maybe the kitten was still in the garden, after all, Qui-Gon heard the knight suggest. Maybe he had simply wandered off. Small bare feet pattered around the garden, each set of small arms still clutching a kitten, save for the boy who had lost his. 

When it appeared as though the animal were really gone, the knight in charge called for all the children to fall in line for noon meal. Slowly, from all corners of the garden, the crest-fallen toddlers obeyed, carefully placing their kittens back into the box before lining up. 

Very near him, behind a tall purple bush, Qui-Gon noticed one of the children still lingering. Obi-Wan. He was holding his small black kitten to his cheek, kissing its head and whispering to it softly as if telling it goodbye. Suddenly, he stepped out from behind the covering. 

"Look!" he shouted to the other children. Look! I've found Jo-Bril's kitten!" 

Obi-Wan was swarmed by the other whooping, gleeful children, Jo-Bril in the lead. He handed the kitten over to the other boy with no hesitation, and such was the excitement in having the animal back and showing it to the knight that no one but Qui-Gon saw the tears on Obi-Wan's cheeks. He had sacrificed something he loved in order to make another happy. 

Qui-Gon had later described the incident to the other masters, to let them know there was a stray kitten lost in the garden somewhere, but the kitten was never found. It was a day Qui-Gon had never forgotten. ~ 

* * * 

"No good you will be to young Kenobi, if take care of yourself you do not." 

In the grav-chair, Qui-Gon was startled into alertness, with no recollection of having dozed off. His heart raced as he remembered why he was there and his eyes flew to the tank where Obi-Wan slept peacefully. 

"Healing, he is," Yoda said, walking closer to the tank and peering in. "Allow yourself the same, you should." 

Qui-Gon maneuvered the chair forward and lowered it until he could comfortably look at the smaller master. /I cannot leave, him, Master,/ he thought back to Yoda, his mind voice wrought with emotion. /I will not./ 

Yoda gave his former padawan a sad, knowing smile. /Know you are here, he does,/ he assured Qui-Gon. /Know that he *still* will, if time away for healing you would take,/ he chastised gently. /So worried you are that jeopardize your health you do. Appreciate this he would not, hmmm?/ 

The frown on Yoda's face was one Qui-Gon knew all too well. 

"Hmmm?" Yoda asked again, aloud, when no answer was forthcoming. 

Qui-Gon stared into the tank, watching his apprentice hang, motionless, in the red liquid. There was something so utterly innocent and helpless about him that it made Qui-Gon's throat tighten. 

/Changed, he has,/ Yoda said, also studying the boy in the tank. 

Qui-Gon turned abruptly towards his former master. 

/Surprised you are, hmmm? Noticed I have,/ Yoda told him calmly. /Noticed, many have./ 

Qui-Gon looked at Yoda in disbelief. 

/Endured much, he did,/ Yoda said. /Endured and survived, did you both. Hmmm./ Yoda turned back to the figure floating in the healing confines of the bacta tank. /Perhaps ready for trials he is. Many who speak this, on the Council there are./ 

The words shocked Qui-Gon, though he did not fully comprehend what the older master was saying. /Are they suggesting that Obi-Wan is ready to take his trials?/ Qui-Gon asked. /He's still so young…/ What Qui-Gon could not tell even his own master was that he was not prepared for his padawan to be knighted and taken from him so quickly. He had been counting on having Obi-Wan with him for at least several more years. 

/Speak for the Council I cannot. Wait we will, for what may come. Right now, concentrate upon young padawan's health, we must. Kenobi's,/ Yoda turned large eyes on Qui-Gon again. /And yours./ The look in Yoda's eyes effectively ended any further questioning from Qui-Gon. 

/Yes, Master,/ Qui-Gon acknowledged. /Although I'm afraid my decision will not change. I will not leave Obi-Wan here alone. I know there are healers here to care for him,/ Qui-Gon anticipated Yoda's next statement. /But as his Master he is my first responsibility and I will not abandon him./ 

/As abandon you, he did not,/ Yoda said knowingly. /Always stubborn have you been./ 

Qui-Gon gave the other master a small smile. /I had a good teacher./ 

Yoda snorted. /Learned on your own, that was. Known for your stubbornness I will not be. Supportive, too, you are. And nurtured young Kenobi you have. A constant source of strength and wisdom you have been. A great knight he will be./ 

Qui-Gon smiled again. "I had a good teacher." 

Yoda's gnarled hand found its way to Qui-Gon's forearm. /Trust you, I do. Know your own limits you do,/ he said. /Overprotective your old master can be./ 

Qui-Gon gave Yoda a grateful look. /I know you believe I am unconcerned about my own welfare, my master, but the truth is that I am more concerned about Obi-Wan. He has grown into a fine young man, yes, strong in his convictions and strong with the Force. But he is still my padawan. Did you not feel the same way in similar situations when I was your apprentice? Would you have seen to your own needs before seeing to mine?/ 

Yoda's face softened as he regarded the tall figure seated beside him. /Never, my padawan,/ he said, emotion coloring his voice. /Grown, the padawan has, into a fine man. See it, his master did not. 

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, to assure Yoda that he *knew* Obi-Wan was a fine man. The next words stilled the protest in his throat. 

/Forgive me, my padawan should./ 

Qui-Gon blushed. 

/Leave you to your padawan, I will,/ Yoda said. /Speak with you the Council will. When well you both are./ The old jedi's tone brooked no opposition and Qui-Gon knew they would be left alone until *Yoda* felt they were healed enough to face the Council. 

/Details they wish,/ Yoda continued. /Foresee the attack we did not. Avoid it again, we must./ Feeling Qui-Gon's anxiety, Yoda added, /No hurry there is. Heal you should. Wait the Council will./ His pronouncement made, the small Jedi master turned and slowly walked away, leaving his former padawan to his vigil. 

Qui-Gon nodded absently in the direction of the departing figure, his full attention already back on his healing padawan. 

A knight! Now Qui-Gon *was* dizzy, and it wasn't because of his illness. Obi-Wan had already satisfactorily passed all of the other tests—mental, spiritual—and was simply awaiting the time when Qui-Gon felt he was ready to take his physical trials. What if, Qui-Gon thought suddenly, the Council voted to allow their time on Trellis to count as Obi-Wan's physical trial? Then the young man could be knighted as soon as he was well and able to attend the ceremony. 

Qui-Gon shuddered. With Obi-Wan beginning as his padawan learner so late, they had had precious little time together—barely more than a decade. And it seemed there was still so much for Obi-Wan to learn…so much more Qui-Gon wanted to teach him. How could Qui-Gon bear to lose him? To lose the master/padawan bond he had become so accustomed to? 

Mentally, Qui-Gon shook himself. It was not up to him to hold Obi-Wan back if the Force, speaking through the Council, chose to say Obi-Wan was ready to become a Jedi knight. Whatever was to be, would be, whether Qui-Gon was prepared for it or not. And standing in the way of the Council's decision, should this be what they had planned, would only give Obi-Wan the impression that he believed him unprepared, and that was not true. Truth be told, Qui-Gon was the one who was ill-prepared for the moment. 

* * * 

~ "Am I to be sent back to Bandomeer, Master?" 

Obi-Wan had been fifteen and suffering from the effects of a manatu bite. With every spike in his temperature and every bout of delirium, he had fretted more about being sent away from Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon had stroked his wet hair and held him close to calm him. 

"No, Obi-Wan. Never. You will never go back to Bandomeer again. Not unless we go together on a mission." 

Obi-Wan had turned glazed eyes upon Qui-Gon. "I am your padawan? Well and truly?" 

Qui-Gon's heart had nearly shattered at the vulnerability behind the questions. "Yes, Obi-Wan. You are my padawan. Never forget that." 

Obi-Wan had tossed and turned restlessly in Qui-Gon's grasp. "Bruck said I would never be your padawan. He said I would never be anyone's padawan." 

"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon had tried to quell Obi-Wan's rantings. 

"He said that even if you made the mistake of taking me on as padawan, you would see I was no good and return me to Bandomeer where I belonged." 

Between his anger at Obi-Wan's age-mate and his empathy with the ill padawan in his lap, Qui-Gon found he could barely breathe. "Oh, Obi-Wan…never…." He whispered into Obi-Wan's sandy brown hair. 

A tear slid down one fevered cheek. "You wouldn't do that, would you, Master? I am a bit clumsy and I don't always learn the exercises the very first time you teach them to me, but I want to please you and I try so hard. For the first time in my life, I feel as if I've found somewhere where I fit in. Please don't send me away." 

"Obi-Wan, listen to me," Qui-Gon had said, although he wasn't sure how much his padawan was able to take in in his condition. "You are my padawan and I am your master. *Nothing* is going to change that. Not anything you do…not anything anyone says. You and I are going to be together until the day you take the trials and become a great Jedi knight. Remember that." ~ 

* * * 

Obi-Wan's condition had taken a turn for the worse then, Qui-Gon recalled, and he had never been sure his apprentice had heard what he'd said. But the words had sparked in him the same feelings Yoda's recent conversation had evoked. All padawans worked toward the day they would take their trials and become knights…and all masters worked to reach a balance wherein they were tightly bonded with their padawans for sharing and teaching, and yet somehow able to break that bond at just the right time to let their padawans fly free. It was always done…but it was not always easy. 

* * * 

As tired as he was, Qui-Gon could tell his strength was returning. Cautiously, he stood up from the chair and stretched legs too long unused. It felt good to be up and under his own power once again. Hands above his head, he leaned back, rolling his head from side to side and arching his back to rid them of the pains over three days of non-movement had caused. 

"Master?" 

At first, Qui-Gon thought he had imagined the sound. Straightening and turning toward the tank, he found Obi-Wan awake and staring at him through the bacta. 

/Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon moved slowly to the front of the tank, pressing his hands against it as if to strengthen the contact between them. 

Wanting only to reach his master, Obi-Wan instinctively fought against the restraining harness and breathing mask. Trying to calm his apprentice, Qui-Gon was only marginally aware of the healers who flooded the room and surrounded the tank, also talking to Obi-Wan. 

/No, Obi-Wan!/ Qui-Gon thought to his apprentice. /Don't fight it. All will be well./ Obi-Wan's movements halted. 

One of the healers approached Qui-Gon, data pad in hand. He showed it to Qui-Gon. 

/Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon said. /The healers have declared you well enough to leave the bacta tank. Do you feel ready?/ 

/Yes, Master,/ came the immediate reply. /I wish to be out of here and to be with you. Will they allow it?/ 

Qui-Gon spoke to the healer for a moment. 

/We have been given permission to retire to our quarters to finish the rest of our healing,/ Qui-Gon told him. /I will await you in the room across the hall. When you are cleaned up and released, we will return to quarters together, to rest and heal. Will that be acceptable?/ 

/Yes, Master,/ Obi-Wan replied, fully allowing his body to relax. /It is more than acceptable. It is what I have desired since you fell ill on the planet./ 

/Then you shall have it, my Obi-Wan,/ Qui-Gon said. /Attend to the healers' wishes now and I will see you when they have finished with you./ 

/Yes, Master,/ Obi-Wan said again, as he was lifted from the bacta and rushed off to be warmed and dried. /I will see you./ 

[el fin…for now] 

Feedback? Anything? Please? (padawan_ana@yahoo.com) 

THERE WILL BE A FOURTH/FINAL PIECE TO THIS SERIES. IT WILL BE SLASH. 


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